


How Montparnasse Made Enjolras Smile

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chelsea Smile, Gen, gore without plot (sort of), torture for unknown reasons (well sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montparnasse is unimpressed. Chelsea smiles ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Montparnasse Made Enjolras Smile

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on AO3. Don't judge me.

Montparnasse sat down in front of Enjolras, slapping his hand against his pale forehead in annoyance.

"You said you’d have the money by now. You do not have the money.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened, pupils blown with terror. He made a muffled cry against the industrial tape that covered his mouth, wrapped around his head three (he thought three, he counted three, numbers made him feel safe but what was the point in that now) times, like a child trying to wrap a football for Christmas. It stuck to his hair, his neck; that would NOT come away easily, he thought. More tape stuck his hands and ankles together, and more fastened him to a chair. It was like some cheesy scene from a Tarantino movie- but this, thought Enjolras, was real.

Through this train of thought, Enjolras had somehow completely missed the fact that Montparnasse had taken out a knife- recently sharpened, with mother-of-pearl detail on the hilt. The dark-haired man was now on his feet again, advancing towards Enjolras in the chair, holding the blade high. The light from the flickering eco-friendly bulb lit up Montparnasse- his perfectly defined cheekbones, his high forehead, his cherry-red lips, down to the silk detail on the lapels of his dinner jacket. Montparnasse brought the knife down.

The cut was close, enough to cut the section of tape around Enjolras’s mouth, which the other man promptly ripped away, and cut not-too-deep into his cheeks. The blond tried to scream, but Montparnasse grabbed his jaw and shoved the knife forward again, cutting away a layer of lip as he sliced the muscle between Enjolras’s top and bottom lip on the right, then brought the knife down in a similar movement on the left. Enjolras was left, sobbing, with two small cuts at either side of his mouth.

If he thought that it was over, he would soon be put to shame.

Montparnasse grinned, cutting free Enjolras’s ankles; Enjolras had barely realised when Montparnasse’s steel toe capped shoe connected with his groin. The blond screamed, his whole body on fire with pain as his mouth snapped open, the cuts ripping further up into his cheek, blood pulsing from the wounds. He could feel the skin from his mutilated cheeks flap down obscenely, exposing his bloodied mouth, teeth and tongue, right back to the root, before he passed out.


End file.
